take me out of water
by The Resurrection 3D
Summary: Adora realizes with a chill that this place is less like a stomach, and more like a mouth. / Post-canon Catradora angst / hurt no comfort


A weird Catradora thing I wrote at apparently 5 am at the end of January, revised for the second season hype wave. I haven't rewatched the show yet, so I apologize if anything is inaccurate or out-of-character (aside from the whole water thing lol). Title is from "My Leather, My Fur, My Nails" by Stepdad. If FFN messes with formatting or omits words again, there's a mirror of this over on ao3. ID: 18118313

Warnings: mentioned child abuse, canon-typical violence, Sad Everyone Hours

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__You ask for too much___,_ Catra mutters, her tone cool and barely-restrained. __You don't even have to ask anything and yet you're __somehow __always asking too much of me. __Her brows furrow harder, a rictus of disgust. __Don't look at me that way. I'm just reading what's written all over your face.__

Adora tries to imagine what she looks like now; a She-Ra rag doll, torn open and dragged through corridor upon corridor of harsh, unwashed metal, then gravel, then dirt, then mud. Her body dumped into the shallow end of a pool, fine-legged creatures crawling over her legs, picking at her clothes, while Catra rests her head in her own lap and pours cold, pungent water over her hair from a dented tin cup.

So – keep your breathing even, She-Ra, if she wanted to kill you, she would've already, wouldn't she?

But is this the Catra who gave her back She-Ra's sword, or the Catra who tried to burn Bright Moon to ash?

It's so dark Catra's eyes practically glow.

Suddenly a small, plastic smile.__Especially those big ole eyes of yours...__A dark claw fills Adora's left vision, fades and doubles, and she can feel her eyelashes bend against the tip of it as she instinctively snaps her eyes shut.

The tip of Catra's claw, a needle point dead in the center of her eyelid.

Catra chuckles to herself and trails the claw up until she adds the others, ghosting four perfectly sharped nails over into She-Ra's blonde hair, which shimmers almost red in the low, pulsing lights. This place isn't any Adora recognizes, but then again, that's what caused all this, isn't it? A base seemingly identical to the one she had wasted so much of her life in, yet …

What in Etheria could the Black Garnet __not__ do, if it could nearly destroy the Moonstone and make a place _move? _Not even in the way the Crystal Castle moved, a play of lights and memories – no, a true body of its own, switching around hallways and towers as easily as changing clothes.

This place, Adora thought when as she was first dragged here with all the grace and care of a body behind a horse, must have been the belly of the base. A scarlet shore whose horizon is swallowed by darkness, the only lighting from jagged, broken bottle crystals growing out of the walls and ceiling. The gentle roar of the water, her own labored breathing, Catra's monologuing as the blood from Adora's reopened cuts sinks into the fabric of her leotard.

Adora realizes with a chill that this place is less like a stomach, and more like a mouth.

Catra swings her hand back down when Adora cracks open an eye, laughing dryly as she stops her claws a centimeter from Adora's pallid face. __Will you __relax? __You really think I wanna scrap your eyeball jelly out from under my nails? It's called dramatic effect. __Another humorless scoff. __You'd think the whole light show when you dress up as She-Ra would've taught you something about that, but then again, anything more complex than punching a still target was never your strong suit.__

Adora opens her eyes. She-Ra wouldn't be afraid.

Catra looks as though she has whole novels to say, but instead she simply grabs the cup and dumps another rush of dirty water onto Adora's head, not bothering this time to try and keep it from getting into her eyes, past her still lips and down her spasming throat.

(why not rip it out?)

They haven't bathed together since they were kids, if you could count Adora washing Catra's gashes off in the sink, getting as much water on the floor as she did in Catra's fur as bathing.

Or when Lonnie got gum in Adora's hair, and Catra tried her best to pry it out from under the facet's rush, because Shadow Weaver would notice instantly if Adora cut even a lock of her hair…

Catra looks away. __Whatever. Who even cares at the point? I've said it all already. Really I'm just talking to myself because of that thing Entrapta put on your sword.__

The mere mention of the name makes Adora's heart twist.

Catra suddenly snarls and smashes the cup into Adora's nose, shoving her off to the side, where Adora can only lay half-slumped onto her belly, blood hot as it drips down her cheek and onto the black, slushy sand.__You care about her more th -__

Adora hears rather than sees Catra scream and kick the cup so hard it bounces off the wall.

__Why am I even bothering? Why can't I just get rid of you?__

Deep breathing, a familiar fight for control, before Catra's feet re-enter her vision. Catra squats down. __Then again,__ she says, grabbing onto a thick rope of Adora's hair. __You already know, don't you?__

Adora tries fruitlessly to scream as Catra yanks her up and starts dragging her into the pool, panic afire in her blood as the water starts to swallow her waist, icy and black and unearthly still around her. She-Ra would be able to kick herself free, would be able to stand upright by her own and not by the burning, teeth-gritting pain in her scalp, and with the taste of bile in the back of her throat Adora realizes how Catra must have truly felt when Shadow Weaver told her a poor imitation is all she'd ever b-

__Well, you think you do, __Catra says with a smile as she grabs Adora's chin, craning her face up to meet hers. __But you really, really don't.__

And she lets go.


End file.
